Heal

“together we will create a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no holes punched into the walls so hard that the foundation rocks and cracks. our home will be gentle, it will be warm. i will keep you safe and you will keep me still. no fear, no hurt, no worry. we come from broken and twisted places but together we will build something whole and safe. we will curl around each other like a pair of quotation marks at night, warm and comforted. in the mornings, you’ll sing in the shower again. we will heal, and we will raise a family that doesn’t need to heal.”

 

I had written a long rant about feminism and Barbie, about how much I hate today’s feminists because they no longer stand for what they once believed in, that their definition of equality is the systematic oppression of men and their rights, but I realise that will get in me a lot of trouble.  With the internet, with women, with.. everyone basically.
Anyway:
the other day, I got into this “argument” with a girl I use to be friends with.
I tweeted that girls need to stop using “feminism” as an excuse to post half naked selfies.  If you’re going to post a half naked selfie, just post the selfie and fucking own it, because honestly, you’re not posting it for feminism.
The girl became upset (I assume because she probably posts half naked selfies and goes on “feminist” rants.) and told me that since I’m going to be a social worker, I’m going to need to “stop bashing her on everything and reevaluate how I’m handling things.”
This really upset me, because this girl is going to school for social work as well.  This girl voted for Trump, had me help her write her papers, had me write her resume for her, and this girl is telling me how I need to be handling things?

I started crying, and G asked me what was wrong.  Instinctively I said nothing, and he called me a terrible liar.  I was upset over this, (the argument, not the liar part) and even though I had “won” this argument, it still made me believe that I’m going to be a terrible social worker and that I’m basically going to amount to nothing, because I already second guess myself daily.  For this Trump supporting feminist to tell me that I need to reevaluate how I do things, well, to me, that just solidified the fact that I’m a failure.

I was upset because at first, G didn’t say anything comforting.  He didn’t say anything at all.  He got ready for work as I thought about this conversation, trying to pick out all the things I did right, which was almost impossible.
He asked what I wanted, and I guess I wanted him to be on my side.  I wanted him to say something petty like, “for someone that’s telling you how to be a social worker, maybe she shouldn’t have “fuck” in every other sentence” or “i like that you said you didn’t need to explain yourself” or something. anything.
I also told him that I realise that guys don’t get into petty arguments over things like this, because guys just don’t.  (At least I don’t see that occurring, but maybe it’s a secret guy thing.)  As he’s leaving for work, I told him it was okay, because he probably didn’t know how to comfort me in this situation, and I think that may have hurt his feelings.

In this instance, I just wanted to talk to my mom and cry and drop out of school.  I wanted her to tell me that this fake feminist wasn’t shit and that the only reason she even made it this far in university is because I did her homework for her.  I don’t know what I really wanted, but I just wanted someone to be mean to this girl who had broken me down for the last time.
After G left for work and I headed home, I got a text from G saying:
“like Tywin Lannister said, “A lion doesn’t concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.”

And I immediately started crying, again, because in the end, he knew exactly how to comfort me.  This single text was exactly what I needed, and this was honestly the longest round about way for me to get to my point:
I cannot explain how much I appreciate G, because he has helped me heal.  He has loved me despite my past, despite my flaws, my depression, my moods, my jealousy, my insecurities, everything.  Through it all, he has been supportive, and loving, and kind.
He has done more for me than I could ever thank him for, and I can only hope I have done half as much for him as he has for me.
He keeps me safe and still.

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relation validation

Recently my older sister has acquired a boyfriend.
I’m extremely happy for her, because in previous years she has gotten on my nerves because I was the only sister she would talk to, so I would get annoyed with the constant texts and questioning of where I am.  I’m so happy she now has a boyfriend to talk to for 12 hours a day instead of me.
I’ve also noticed that I’ve become increasingly annoyed because she is in the “fan girling” stage of her relationship, and while that’s excellent for her, I’m questioning whether I’m annoyed or if I’m jealous.

I mean, I don’t think I’m jealous, because while I don’t fan girl, nor have I really ever fan girl-ed over G, I never felt the need to.  However, it’s small things that make me question my own relationship.  Are we really in a relationship if it’s not Facebook official? I mean, I don’t have Facebook, and I’m not about to get Facebook just so the internet can feel satisfied that another relationship has been validated by strangers that we never speak to.
I know in previous relationships I needed my boyfriend to post photos of us, I needed him to make me his #WCW, I needed all of that validation, because I was insecure and if he wasn’t posting about me, he didn’t care.

G has proven to me time and again, he isn’t huge on the whole social media relationship shit, and that’s fine.  He wouldn’t even have Facebook if it weren’t for his job using it for scheduling.  While we both have twitter and instagram, I find that we have very few photos together.  We have a few together from holidays, like Halloween and  Thanksgiving; and we have the occasional “let’s take a cute photo together” and he’s flipping me off. (which is fine, because there’s nothing he could do that would make me love him less.  Well, within reason. hah.)

Anyway, I found myself feeling down about this last night while waiting for G to come home from work because he doesn’t “like” my photos or text me sweet things, he doesn’t have my name in his twitter profile (which honestly I don’t really like anyway so that’s fine) and he doesn’t post photos of us.  This morning as he’s running his fingers through my hair and kissing my forehead, I realized that I don’t need validation from anyone or anything.  I don’t even necessarily need photos of us. (while I do like making them my phone background, it’s not a life or death requirement.  just another silly validation you’re forced to believe.)
What’s more is that these photos aren’t who I’m in a relationship with.
The internet isn’t the one who bought a lamp so I could read without having to turn on the overhead light and wake them up.
These photos aren’t the one who has a drawer full of random drinks in the fridge because I got a craving for Coca-Cola ONE time and now there’s always sprite and coke, and the blue gatorade that I love even though G likes blue powerade.
Those photos don’t scratch my head until I fall asleep.
The internet doesn’t sporadically glance over at me and say, “hey. i love you.” while we’re playing video games, or watching a movie, or while I’m making dinner.
Those photos don’t take me to a new brewing company for a date night, and those photos don’t pay for my ticket to the movie.  Those photos don’t taste test the stale chips when I ask them to, and they sure as hell don’t define whether my relationship is real or not.

So in the end, as much as I love taking photos and bragging about how great G is, I don’t need it.  I don’t need him to be this perfect instagram #relationshipgoals whatever because I don’t need the validation from the internet.  He is this wondrous human that holds my hair back when I throw up, keeps random drinks I might want in his fridge, scratches my head until I fall asleep, tells me how he missed me while we’re away working, and always tells me he loves me, even when he’s not saying anything.
The internet could never provide that for me, and that’s perfectly fine.  I don’t need it to, because G already does.

loving differently

sometimes I repress my feelings, a lot.
obviously not on this blog, but in person.
As G and I were lying in bed one day, I had been upset with him and didn’t bother telling him why.  Finally, he asked if I wanted to talk about it.
of course I didn’t, so I said no.
To which he replied, “oh yeah, just hold it in until later and you get mad and be mean to me.”  and I was like, “yup.”
but then, something magical happened.
we talked about it.  And I realise that a plethora of my former relationships had been abusive.  No, I didn’t wear the scars or bruises, because it was emotionally abusive.
It’s hard to realise that you’re in an abusive relationship when it’s small things and snide comments that don’t really mean anything, but they do.

I cannot express how much I love G, and how much I truly appreciate him for never gaslighting me or telling me I’m overreacting; not once has he ever told me I’m fat/ugly/annoying/obnoxious, whatever it may be.

I’ve also realized that those with emotional abuse, well, we love a little differently:

We hold our distance a little longer than most people do.
We don’t want to mess anything up, so we’ll keep you at arms length so that we don’t get too close.

We play it close to the chest.
after being hurt so many times, opening up freely is a little, well, difficult. We don’t like making ourselves an open target, exposing ourselves or being completely vulnerable.  sometimes it’s best if we keep things to ourselves.

We take it slow.
not just physically, but emotionally and mentally.  it’s hard not to proceed with caution.

We’re overly suspicious.
when you’re with someone that constantly puts you down over and over again, it’s hard not to believe that you’re worthless, or question why anyone would want to be with you. It’s not that we don’t believe you like us, we’re just unsure of what’s appealing or lovable about us.

We’re hesitant about getting to know people in your life.
When you meet family and friends, it means things are getting a little more serious.  Your lives are becoming intertwined and that’s just scary.

We show affection, on our own terms.
When you cuddle up to us and we freeze, it’s because affection had been so minimal, we have to get use to it again.

We assume the worst, but hope for the best.
When scorned by the one you love, it’s hard not to build a wall around your heart, protecting it with all you have.  It’s easy to be guarded, protective, and hesitant.  We know that we’ve been hurt, and expect that things won’t last and we’ll be hurt again if we’re not careful.
Of course we hope things won’t be like the past, but we do assume the worst.  It’s a coping mechanism, and it sometimes hurts us more than helps us.

So thank you, past relationships for always being shitty and fucking me over with my future.

Mental Health.

so I’ve realised something that is really not talked about that much with mental health stuff is just.. how easily it can come back.

One day I’m really doing well and not even thinking bad stuff, and then one terrible thing can happen the next day and I absolutely.. just spiral.

And then it’s really hard to reach out for help because people are like well you seemed fine this whole week/month/these past few months so what can really be wrong?

And I’m like you know what? You’re right! I can’t be feeling this right now! I didn’t do anything to earn these terrible feelings so I must feel great!

Which really just feeds into the whole thing.

you and i both know that the house is haunted

Happy Halloween lovelies! 

G and I were Macho Man Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan, and we were spooktacular, if I do say so myself. 


so anyway, it’s been one year since we’ve had our first Halloween together, and I have to say, I love him more than I ever thought I would. 

I don’t know when you knew you loved me, but between all the lazy Monday’s and the nights spent listening to music while lying in the bathroom floor, I have grown to love you more with each passing moment. 

I can’t thank you enough for all you do for me, even when you think it’s nothing. Thank you for putting up with me when I get crazy, and for forcing me to talk things out instead of pushing them down and acting as if nothing is wrong. Thank you for being exactly who you are, my love.